Paris: Avant et Après
by Elizzzybeth
Summary: My take on what happened before, during, and after Jet Lag.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I continue to not own NCIS. Or be married to Michael Weatherly. Funny how that works. This story takes place a couple months after my other story (The Good in the Hurt) ended. It's not necessary to read that one, but it would make my day if you do. =) I tried to stay in-character and in-canon. I hope you like it. I have some more chapters in the works. Reviews are so helpful, but thank you for reading whether you have time to review or not.

* * *

Scanning through the hoards of people milling about Washington Dulles International Airport, Tony finally glimpsed Ziva. She was standing outside of their agreed upon meeting place, a coffee shop, tapping her foot and looking around irritably.

"They put too much moxie in your java, Ziva?" Tony asked, sauntering up to her.

Ziva narrowed her eyes at him.

"You said you needed ten minutes to find something to read on the plane. It's been over half an hour."

"Yeah, but I passed by a store and couldn't resist picking up a pair of these babies."

Tony whipped an Armani box out of his pocket to reveal new sunglasses.

"You couldn't have waited until we get to Paris to make your purchases?"

"They were on sale! And besides, Armani is Italian, Ziva. Got to hang on to my heritage somehow."

Ziva rolled her eyes and picked up her carry-on.

"Let's go, Dinozzo."

"Ah, Par-ee," Tony sighed dreamily, letting Ziva lead the way to their terminal. "This so beats working on paperwork with McGee."

"It's still a job," Ziva reminded him. "And if we screw it up, Gibbs will make sure we never leave our desks again, much less the country."

"Not even 0700 and you're being a buzz killer."

"Someone has to have the awful job of keeping your 'buzz' checked out."

"I think you mean keeping my buzz 'in check,' oh linguistically-skilled one. And don't flatter yourself. You'd be lucky to check out my buzz."

"I would rather kill it."

Tony stared at her retreating form, appalled, until he accidentally ran into a group of nuns.

Ziva turned around to see Tony being pelted by several large, floral carpet bags.

"I'm not a pervert!" Tony shouted, ducking. "That was my gun you felt!"

When security finally released them an hour later, and they were allowed to board their flight, Ziva still would not stop glaring at him.

"I said I was sorry!" Tony told her, violently shoving their carry-ons into the overhead compartment. "But you were distracting me!"

"Yes, I should know better than to talk to you while you are performing such a difficult task as walking," Ziva snapped, slapping Tony's hands away as she reached around him to adjust their luggage.

When the compartment finally clicked shut, Ziva smiled up at him smugly. He exhaled loudly and motioned for her to sit down.

"I thought you would want the window seat since you've never seen Paris before." Ziva tilted her head at him.

"I'd rather have an escape route," Tony growled, taking her elbow to encourage her to sit.

When they were both settled and fastening their seatbelts, a man in his sixties or seventies leaned over from his seat across the aisle and tapped Tony's shoulder.

"Second honeymoon, huh?" The man grinned at him.

"What?" Tony startled.

"Nothing wrong with putting a little excitement back in the marriage," the man said, eyes twinkling as he turned and regarded the woman sitting next to him. "Works for me and June every time."

The woman looked up from her crocheting, stared from her husband to Tony to her husband again and, rolling her eyes, resumed her yarn work.

"In fact, works so well this is June's and my…38th honeymoon, right, sweet pea?"

June replied without looking up, "Hush, Frank. No one needs to hear your wisdom on an 8-hour flight when they can't escape."

Frank frowned at her.

"Don't be silly. Conversation is an excellent way to pass the time." He turned back to Tony. "I, myself, wouldn't have suggested Paris for the second honeymoon."

Before Tony could respond, he felt Ziva's elbow digging into his thigh as she leaned over him and asked, "Why is that?"

"Too intense," Frank replied quickly. "Paris is for love that goes all the way into your bones. It's the only city we've found that can reach it. Most people who go on a second honeymoon need Hawaii or Cancun, where they can just have a quick refresher on fruity drinks and sexy rendezvous. Paris…should not be entered into lightly."

"I thought it was the city of light," Tony offered weakly.

Frank was about to reply when his wife cut him off by jabbing him in the side with her crochet needle.

"You're doing it again, Frank," she scolded him. "Here. Take your Valium."

Frank muttered darkly but did as he was told. While he dug in his navy blue medication bag, June leaned over him to tell Tony and Ziva, "I'm sorry. He won't admit it, but he's terrified of flying. Always has been. It wasn't until after a 12-hour flight to Qatar that I refused to ever travel with him unless he got something to stop his nervous chattering."

"Valium does the trick, eh?" Tony asked.

"Not as well as this anesthetic I found for him in Peru." June stared at her husband disapprovingly. "But that's hard to keep on hand, and Valium was the heaviest our physician would give us. But I've noticed if I triple the dose, he sleeps the whole way and doesn't bother anyone."

Tony gave her a terrified smile.

"Switch places with me," he whispered to Ziva.

"I thought you wanted the aisle so you could escape," Ziva replied drily.

"I lied. Please protect me."

"You're fine. Be quiet, or I'll ask June to sedate you."

"I think she'd enjoy that."

"We all would, Tony."

* * *

A few hours into the flight, Tony was watching a movie with lots of kung-fu moves, Ziva was reading a book, Frank was unconscious, and June was crocheting complacently. Ziva tugged at Tony's headphones.

"Can you get my coat please?" she requested.

"You're cold?"

She nodded.

"Even with both our blankets?"

She nodded again.

"Women," he muttered. "Why can't they regulate their body temperatures like the rest of us?"

Tossing Ziva her blue coat, she put it on backwards to cover her, and Tony helped tuck the other blankets around her.

"I was meaning to ask," Tony felt her soft, blue collar. "Is this _another_ new coat? Being an NCIS probie must pay a lot better than your Mossad gig. How many jackets have you bought this year, anyway?"

"It is not new," Ziva replied, ignoring his question. She seemed deep in thought. After a few moments, she continued, "I bought it in Paris several years ago. Tali got a matching one, in green. After she…our Aunt Nettie kept them for us because Eli thought anything we couldn't wear in the field was a frivolous purchase."

Tony didn't say anything, just waited for her eyes to meet his. When they did, he smiled. The compassion in his eyes made Ziva's breath catch. She looked out the window and said, "After I resigned from Mossad, Aunt Nettie sent both coats to me. I tried on Tali's, but it was too small."

Tony wanted to say something profound, but he had to settle for replying, "Well, this one fits you nice."

Ziva smiled, thanking him, and closed her eyes.

Realizing he was staring at her, Tony turned back to his movie.

A little while later, while Tony was engrossed with how fast Jackie Chan could move his hands, he felt Ziva shift in her sleep and rest her head against his shoulder. The subtle jasmine scent of her hair triggered a memory of a couple months earlier when Ziva had slept in his bed. He had been there too. It was awesome. They hadn't had sex or kissed or anything, but it was a colossal leap in the boundaries of their partnership/friendship. She had left after breakfast the next morning. When they saw each other in the office the following Monday, his uneasy eyes met her guarded ones, and they made a tacit agreement not to mention their sleepover. The first few days had been awkward, but by the end of the week, Tony and Ziva were back to their usual teasing and fighting.

When the movie finished, Tony realized his cheek was resting on Ziva' head. Too drowsy to readjust, Tony closed his eyes and allowed himself to enjoy the feel of her silky hair against his skin. It felt simple to sit like this. It made him feel comfortable. When she had gotten together with Rivkin, everything became complicated. Rivkin, and then Somalia, had surfaced feelings Tony hadn't known he had, hadn't known he was capable of. He had been willing to "sacrifice his career" for her. He "couldn't live without" her. "Ziva's not replaceable." These were by far the deepest emotions he had ever felt for someone. Their sleepover had made him revisit some of those feelings. He suspected it had been a lot for her too. Rebuilding some distance between them had seemed like the right thing to do.

Yet, as Ziva turned into him more and placed her hand on his chest, Tony's whole body ached to pull her close. Checking his watch and realizing he would have to endure this torture for another four hours, Tony sighed, loosened his tie and threw an arm around Ziva. She shifted closer to him, and he could feel her breasts against his ribcage. He squeezed his eyes shut, thinking, "Damned if I do. Damned if I don't."

* * *

Tony woke suddenly a few hours later with a definite feeling that someone was staring at him. He opened his left eye to see if Ziva was about to reprimand him for something, but she was still snoring softly. He looked to his right to find that the stare belonged to Frank who, much to June's dismay, had roused from his coma ahead of schedule.

"Maybe you two can handle Paris after all." He smiled at Tony slowly. "I could tell you stories…"

"Stop it, Frank," June elbowed him."Leave the poor couple alone."

"We're actually not a couple at all," Tony protested, attempting to shove Ziva out of his space.

"Stop it, Tony," Ziva muttered groggily, swatting at him and dropping her head back onto his shoulder.

Tony looked at June and Frank.

"We're not!" he protested weakly.

"Clearly." The couple said together.

He returned his eyes to Ziva who was slowly sitting up and stretching her arms, which made him painfully aware of how perfectly her thin sweater hugged her frame, neglecting not one single curve. He simultaneously thanked and cursed the inventor of cashmere.

"Don't google." Ziva snapped him out of his trance.

"Ogle," he corrected furiously. "And if you don't want me to, then don't put your girly parts on me while you're sleeping!"

Ziva stared at him a few moments before she burst out laughing.

"It's not funny," he muttered darkly.

"Excuse me, I- _giggle_ – don't know –_gasp_- what you are talking –_gasp giggle_- about."

"Your…you know…girly area…"

Ziva raised her eyebrows at him.

"Fine, your breasts! They decided to have a snuggle with me while you were sleeping."

Ziva laughed even harder.

"How –_gasp_- scandalous of them!"

"I can't believe you think this is funny."

"I just –_guffaw_- can't take them anywhere."

"Did June slip you something when you went to the bathroom after lunch?"

"No. Did she slip you something?" Ziva laughed, wiping a tear off her cheek. "Or have you always felt this threatened by my breasts? I have been told many times that I, as an operative, am intimidating, but I always assumed my breasts were not part of that equation."

Tony stared at this unfamiliar creature beside him.

"I can't believe we are talking about this."

"You're the one who woke me up to lecture me about my rogue breasts."

"Would you stop talking about your...I am…this is a red-flag conversation!"

"Ha! Your life is a red-flag conversation, Tony."

"I don't know what you're talking about! I never-"

"Ahem!" A flight attendant squawked in front of them.

Tony and Ziva looked up, startled.

"As I have said five times, we are beginning our descent to Paris," she told them sternly. "Please return your chair to its upright position."

Wordlessly, Tony and Ziva straightened their chairs.

"Thank you," she huffed, stomping back down the aisle.

Tony and Ziva saw Frank and June grinning at them.

"Oh, yes," Frank said sagely. "Paris will do the pair of you a lot of good."

"Excellent pharmaceuticals too," June added, winked.

Tony and Ziva smiled uncomfortably at them and looked out the window. Within a few minutes, Ziva was pointing out several landmarks to Tony.

When the plane had landed and passengers were filing into the aisle, Ziva felt Tony's hand on her lower back.

"Ready, my sleepy ninja?"

"Après vous, Tony."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thank you again to everyone who reviewed my first chapter. It means so much to me to get your feedback. I hope you all like this new one! =)

* * *

As Ziva and Tony entered their hotel room, Ziva let out one final huff. She had been huffing at various staff members for the last hour. How could NCIS have screwed up and booked them for one room? Especially one room that only had one bed and…not even a couch? Good lord.

Tony cleared his throat from behind her.

"This is like the plot to some bad romantic comedy," he commented. "Although if you only brought sexy lingerie it could be the start of a great-"

"You're disgusting," Ziva snapped as she deposited her small bag onto the floor.

"I suppose I could use a shower." Tony sniffed himself. "What time is it now?"

"5 o'clock."

"You hungry?"

"Starving."

"Know any good places to eat around here?"

"I know several."

"Well then, what are we waiting for?"

"We should shower."

"I thought you'd never ask."

"Separately! You may go first."

"Aw, how gentlemanly of you!"

Ziva turned around to glare at Tony. She startled to see that he was already shirtless and digging in his bag. In an attempt to pry her eyes off of his gorgeous shoulders, she stumbled forward and picked his shirt up off the floor.

"It will wrinkle," she scolded.

"Plenty more where that came from," Tony replied. "Unlike some people, I came prepared for a holiday in Par-ee."

"What do you mean?"

"Ziva, Ziva. Paris is a city of refinement and splendor." Tony held up three expensive-looking shirts and two silk ties. "Paris is Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck."

"So?"

Tony reached over and tugged on Ziva's pants. "Audrey Hepburn did not wear cargo pants."

Ziva eyed him reproachfully. "I thought they were in _Roman Holiday_ together."

"They were. Don't be so literal."

"Hmmph." Ziva stalked away from him and into the bathroom. "Just for that, I am using up all the hot water!"

"Hey!" she heard Tony protest, but she had already locked the door.

Untrue to her threat, Ziva showered quickly. Sneaking out in just a towel, she saw that Tony had fallen asleep on the bed…still shirtless. Damn him.

Tony did not sleep long. He awoke to the lovely sound of a hairdryer wheezing from the corner. He sat up to see Ziva, wrapped only in a big, white towel, blow drying her hair upside down. When she flipped it up a few minutes later, he startled at how huge it was.

"Wow, you have a lot of hair!" Tony shouted.

"At least it's on my head and not my butt," she replied, turning off the hairdryer.

"Hey! I get that waxed."

"I'm leaving without you if you don't get moving," she warned.

Tony grumbled but went to the shower. He brought his suit and blue button down shirt with him so the steam could de-wrinkle them. Unlike Ziva, he took a nice, long shower, allowing the hot water to pound some of the tension out of his muscles. When out of the shower, he went through his usual man-primping routine of shaving, deodorizing, and snipping any rogue hairs that happened to pop up. He would sooner be locked in a room with a caffeine-deprived Gibbs than have anyone ever see the hairs that sporadically sprouted out of his ears.

When Tony was good and groomed, he slipped into his pants and blue shirt. Unsure which tie looked best, he exited the bathroom to seek Ziva's opinion. He saw that she was on the balcony…looking good enough to eat in a velvety green dress and grey suede boots. Briefly, Tony contemplated running back into the bathroom but, from the way Ziva glanced over her shoulder, he knew her ninja senses picked up on his presence. He scoffed at his new-found nervousness and joined her on the balcony.

"You had _this_ in your tiny bag?" he asked, admiring how the velvet interweaved with silk on the front of her dress.

"I never go on assignment without at least one dressy outfit," she informed him. "You should always be prepared to combine into whatever situation could present itself."

"I think you mean 'blend,'" Tony corrected softly.

She turned to face him.

"Aren't you ready yet?"

"Almost!" he replied defensively. "Which tie best says 'stunningly handsome, yet modest?'"

"Neither. Perhaps you should write it on there."

"You're getting snarky. Perhaps it has been too long since you were fed and watered?"

"I am officially leaving without you."

"No! I'm coming!"

While Tony finished dressing, Ziva buttoned her coat and stared down the street, trying to remember which direction her favorite restaurant was.

"So where are we going?" Tony asked as they exited the room.

"Chez Rouge Lapérouse." Ziva smiled. "It is close, and the food is amazing."

* * *

Ziva was right. The food was amazing. Tony had never tasted any cuisine so delicious, other than his grandmother's homemade Italian, of course. The maitre d' had seated them in a quiet, romantic spot towards the back of the restaurant. Tony found himself entranced by how Ziva's skin looked in the candlelight. When the waitress finished taking their orders, she asked Ziva a question which made her look at Tony and blush. She murmured something Tony didn't understand, and the waitress grinned and hurried away.

"What was that about?" he asked.

"She said you have bread on your chin."

"She did not!"

"Well, does it matter? You do." Ziva laughed and reached over to remove the offending crumbs.

Feeling her thumb brush against his skin made his ribcage tingle. He quickly changed the subject.

"So, what're the things I absolutely need to see before we leave?"

In trying to narrow down her favorite places, Ziva was reminded of some of her more humorous exploits in France when she was with Mossad. A most vivid memory of her team trying to smuggle 15 indignant turkeys out of the Moulin Rouge required her to order another bottle of wine. She and Tony traded stories back and forth, laughing so hard the restaurant staff started pointedly filling their glasses with water. Over two and half hours passed without them realizing it.

When Tony did finally look at his watch, he let out a loud squawk and motioned for the check.

"The Eiffel Tower will be closed!"

"Don't be silly, Tony. The elevators stay open til at least 10:30."

Not willing to take any chances, Tony threw down a stack of euros, seized Ziva's hand, and ran them out of the restaurant.

After agitatedly walking for a few blocks, he spotted a vespa rental shop down the street.

"Our chariot awaits us, my ninja!"

"Fine, but only if I can drive."

"Uh, sure, yeah. Of course you can drive! I'll be right back."

When Tony had secured the vespa ten minutes later, he saw Ziva perusing a postcard shop. He couldn't believe how well their evening was going. He felt different in Paris, much more…carefree. Ziva seemed happier too. At that moment, she caught his eye and waved him over. He waved back, but had to stop almost instantly when a little girl jumped onto the back on his scooter. After assuring her parents that he was not mad, he turned back to see Ziva laughing at him. His breath caught when he saw the light in her eyes. When her attention focused elsewhere, he quickly retrieved his camera from his pocket and snapped a picture of her. He had no idea why he did it, but it felt like the right thing to do.

"Hurry up!" he called once he had driven over to her. "I can feel them roping off the elevator now."

"It does not close til 10:30, Tony," Ziva reminded him, a slight reprimanding tone in her voice.

Tony bounced impatiently while she settled in behind him. When her arms wrapped timidly around his middle, he felt his chest tighten. Quickly, he revved the engine and took off.

"I thought I said I wanted to drive," Ziva noted, her breath tickling his ear.

"The rental guy forbid it," Tony lied. "Total sexist."

"Uh-huh." Ziva did not sound convinced. Tony drove a little faster.

* * *

They made it to the Eiffel Tower with plenty of time to spare, as Ziva took no qualms in pointing out. The moment they stepped off the elevator, Tony raced to the binocular stands, while Ziva calmly made her way to the ledge. She rested her arms on it and scanned over the beautiful city. Dusk was falling, and the city was turning its night lights on. Ziva relaxed as she took it all in.

An hour or so later, after Tony had taken in the sights from every possible angle, it had grown quite dark. Squinting, he saw Ziva standing at the ledge. Once he joined her, he said, "Thanks for putting up with me. I know none of this is new to you."

Ziva smiled up at him.

"It is no inconvenience. I am enjoying myself as well."

"You look cold," he noted, tapping her red nose.

Ziva shrugged, and he moved to unbutton his coat.

"No, Tony, you will be cold," she protested.

He just shushed her and stepped behind her.

"Unlike some creatures, I am able to regulate my body temperature," he chided, opening his coat.

Ziva leaned back towards his warmth without even thinking, and Tony wrapped the coat around them both.

It was a tight fit, and Ziva was sure they looked ridiculous, yet she was not going to pull away. Every part of him that was touching her tingled. Her body fit perfectly into his. After a few minutes, she allowed her head to rest against his chest. So close to his neck, she could smell his cologne, his detergent, his skin. It made her head feel light, and her thoughts became jumbled.

Tony had never experienced a sensation like this. His insides were burning, yet his limbs were frozen, and not from the cold. Her hair felt like silk against his cheek. Was this really happening? Was he actually doing this with his partner? Unconsciously, he pulled her closer. Memories of last summer crossed his mind. He remembered how badly he had missed Ziva. He remembered being shocked that he suddenly had this longing to hold her. When she was finally reunited with the team in September, everything felt so raw between them. Over the last few months, they had forgiven each other and slowly started to heal together. Now, it felt like they were melting together, their closeness creating a world where they could be better.

After a while, Ziva shifted and turned to face Tony. Her eyes were vulnerable but so were his, so she cautiously brought her hands to his chest. She felt his heart beat against her fingers, strong and a bit faster than normal.

"Have you seen enough of Paris for the night?" she asked.

"I suppose. Should we head back?"

"I think that would be wise."

"Okay then."

They stood still, continuing to stare at each other. Tony's arms seemed unwilling to let her go, and Ziva hands did not wish to break contact either.

It wasn't until a few minutes later when some raucous teenagers raced by that they finally pulled apart. Ziva straightened her coat while Tony ran a hand threw his hair.

"Come on," she said, pulling on his elbow. "It is cold."

"It is not," Tony contradicted but allowed himself to be pulled to the elevator.

* * *

Their walk home was quiet, both lost in their thoughts. When they got back to their hotel room, Ziva grabbed her bag and went straight to the bathroom. Tony quickly took off his suit and changed into a pair of grey pajama bottoms and a bright blue tee shirt. When she exited the bathroom, he couldn't help but notice how lovely she looked in her peach camisole and olive green pajama pants.

After he finished brushing his teeth, Tony found Ziva in bed tucked under the covers. He stared at her uncertainly, until she scooted over a little and said, "There is enough room for two, Tony."

He took a big leap and flopped next to her on the bed, making her laugh.

"What are you reading?" he asked.

"_The Grapes of Wrath._" Ziva handed him her book. "Have you read it?"

"I was supposed to in high school. Don't think I did. The movie was great though."

"It is on the "100 books every American should read" list that McGee made for me."

"Huh. McGoo _would_ make a list like that…The movie would be on my top 100 list, if I had one."

"Well, I'm only 200 pages in, so don't tell me what happens."

"Aye aye, captain."

"What does this have to do with my eyes?"

"Nothing! It's a saying. It means…well, it's hard to explain. Just read your book."

Ziva sighed, setting her book aside.

"I am too tired," she said. "Do you mind if I turn off the lamp."

"No."

Ziva settled onto her side after the lights were out. Tony lay on his back, unable to keep his head from turning to watch her.

"Why are you staring at me?" she asked a few minutes later.

Tony startled.

"How do you…" Tony began but stopped himself. "Is it one of those ninja skills they teach you in training?"

Ziva smiled and rolled over.

"That is confidential," she said lightly. "Are you not tired?"

"I don't know. I'm still pretty excited about being in Paris."

"You are so much like a child."

"Thanks, Ziva."

"Not in a bad way!" she defended. When he raised his eyebrow at her, she amended, "Well, oftentimes in a bad way. But not this time."

Tony rolled over in a huff, pretending to snub her. Ziva poked him in the kidney, which caused him to jolt onto his back, grabbing her wrists. She used his offense against him and allowed herself to be pulled on top of him, where she promptly twisted his fingers into a very painful position. When Tony yelped, Ziva eased back.

"Ugh. My family would disown me if they knew that a girl can kick my ass in two seconds flat," he groaned.

Ziva grinned devilishly.

"I don't need _that_ long," she pointed out.

Tony just scowled at her. Laughing, Ziva leaned down and, without thinking about it, placed a kiss on his furrowed forehead. Tony looked up at her with a shocked face that mirrored her own.

"I did not mean to-" she stuttered. "I am sorry…"

She moved to get off him, but Tony grabbed her as he sat up.

"Don't," he ordered, using his hand to tilt her chin up. When he found her eyes, he leaned in and kissed her own wrinkled brow. She stared at him. A few moments later, he shifted to kiss her right temple. It made her ribcage quiver inside. He kissed her left temple, and her lips tingled.

Tony pulled back and saw that Ziva's eyes were wide open, like she was shocked, scared, upset? When he started to utter an apology, Ziva shook her head slightly. Tipping her weight into his torso, Ziva pressed Tony's back down into the mattress. Settling her body atop of his, she touched her mouth to his cheek. Her warm breath washed over him as she moved to his chin and then his jaw, just under his ear. He groaned almost silently as he flipped them over. Ziva closed her eyes as his lips caressed one cheekbone, then the other. He slid down and kissed her collar bones, tracing his mouth from one side to the other. Ziva's fingers slipped into his hair as she inhaled shakily. Tony continued and moved up her neck, fascinated by each curve and crevice. Her sweet skin and quickening pulse hummed underneath him. He couldn't resist tasting her. As his tongue made contact with her pulse point, she gasped. The sound caused most of the blood in his head to rush painfully to his lower abdomen. He felt himself harden against her. She rolled them so she was on top. He tried to shift his hips away from hers, but she squeezed her thighs to hold him in place.

"Ziva, I-"

"Shhh."

He reached up to rub his thumbs against her sides, while Ziva laid herself against him. She nipped gently at his ear, soothing it with her tongue. When he lowered his hands to feel the impossibly soft skin of her hip bones, she dug her nails into his shoulders and let her body sink down, her warm core pulsating against him

Tony's eyes flew open wide. His hands shot up to hold her hips still.

"No, Ziva, you can't- I can't-" he fumbled, sitting them both up.

Ziva stared at him, divided between confusion and alarm.

"It's been a really long time since…" Tony grimaced as the words just slipped out. "And you are so damn beautiful. I don't want to…"

Ziva stared at him in disbelief. This was not the cocky, obnoxious Tony who bragged about his alpha maleness at work and pretended he didn't have feelings. She'd seen glimpses of this Tony before, but never so…close up.

Ziva cleared her throat.

"You think I'm…beautiful?"

Tony stared at her in disbelief.

"Well, who wouldn't? Have you met you?"

"But, you…You do?"

"Yeah."

Ziva cleared her throat.

"Thank you."

"You didn't know?"

She shrugged.

"I do not know if I knew. Do you know I think you are…handsome?"

"Well, who wouldn't?"

She laughed and poked him in the side.

"Now don't start that again," Tony teased, though a heaviness stayed in his eyes as he glanced at her lips.

Ziva replied, her voice uncertain, "Would that be a bad thing?"

Tony paused before he replied, "Are you ready for that?"

"…I am not certain."

"I need you…to be certain."

Ziva stared at him, unsure of whether to feel rejected or not. Tony must have seen the vulnerability in her eyes because he said, "Ziva, I want you. But more than that, I want you to mean it if we…Because I am certain that I will mean it."

"I want that," Ziva whispered. "I am just not sure if I am ready."

"That is fine," Tony replied. "Really."

Ziva lay down and turned away, not sure she understood what he was saying. He seemed different in Paris. She herself seemed different in Paris. The boundaries of work, rules, and the real world seemed to have disappeared, taking away her usual walls. Ziva felt exposed, yet she did not feel the sense of weakness that she always linked with being vulnerable. It did not feel good, but it did not feel bad either. It was like the pain she felt when she was a child and her bones were growing. Ziva remembered how Tali and Ari had rubbed her legs at night to help with the pain. The memory took her by surprise. Her heart ached to think of it.

"Can I…" Tony drew closer to her, trailing his fingers over her shoulder blades.

A year ago, she would have pushed him away. A year ago, she would have interpreted his caring for her as him thinking she was weak. A year ago seemed so far away from now, from them, from Paris.

Instead of replying, Ziva tugged his arms around her, silently asking him to hold her close. He understood and tucked her securely into him. With one final kiss to her temple, he tangled his legs with hers and buried his face in her curls. Laying with Ziva, listening to her breathe, made him so content. His commitment-phobic tendencies should have been screaming for him to make some asinine comment and retreat, yet he couldn't help but pull her closer. Maybe the events of the last year, combined with Paris, had made him a new man.

"Tony," Ziva whispered.

"Sweetcheeks?"

"That had better be your gun."

Or maybe not.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Ok, so this is much shorter than my usual chapters. I wrote it all in one go tonight. I'm kind of unsure about it, but I needed to get it out so I can transition to my next chapter. I hope you all like it. I hope it does not get too cliche.

Thanks again for all the amazing reviews! I appreciate it so much.

P.S. I still don't own NCIS, but Michael Weatherly has finally agreed to have a secret love affair...although, sadly, it not with me. ;)

* * *

Ziva woke up slowly the next morning. A few strips of light peaked through the curtains, casting soft shadows over their hotel room. She could feel Tony's heart beating where her cheek rested on his chest. She could also hear him snoring with every inhale and exhale. One of his arms was wrapped around her waist, while the other was splayed over his head. Their legs were tangled together. Ziva exhaled as quietly as possible. His body was warm and solid. Lying with him should not have made her feel so good. Yet, feeling the muscles of his shoulder underneath her fingers, she could not help but shift closer.

When she realized his snoring had stopped a few minutes later, she startled and began to roll away from him, but Tony held her firmly.

"What's going on?" he asked, yawning.

"Nothing!" she replied. "I was just getting up."

"It's only…" Tony searched for a clock. "Oh-six-hundred."

"Yes, well, I plan to go for a run."

"You exercise when you're on vacation?"

"Sometimes," she replied. "But this is not a vacation. We are here for work."

Being slightly more awake now, Tony noticed how uneasy Ziva sounded. Her body was stiff, and he realized he was still holding her in his arms. Was she panicking about last night? He released his grip on her, and she jumped out of bed.

Sitting up slowly, he watched her digging in her bag.

"Why are you freaking out?" he asked.

She startled and turned to face him.

"I am not freaking out."

"Sure you are."

"No, I am not."

"It's fine, Ziva."

"What is fine? There is nothing to be fine or not fine about."

"Okay, fine."

Ziva glared at him and went into the bathroom. Tony sighed, reaching to grab his bag beside the bed. He retrieved his laptop and called for room service while he waited for the internet to boot up.

"Our flight's been delayed," he told Ziva when she emerged a few minutes later. "We don't leave til sixteen-hundred."

"Okay," Ziva replied, sitting down to tie her running shoes. "Can you call the embassy to tell them we will be picking up our witness later?"

"Sure thing. Going to use the treadmill, then?"

"Yes."

"I think I'll head out to do some sightseeing."

Ziva glanced up at him. He couldn't read the look in her eyes.

"Okay." She shrugged.

Tony knew something was off, but he didn't know what. Flashes of last night came back to him, spilling like a box of crayons into a set of paints. Remembering her warm skin and how she had ground her hips into his, he wondered if she was embarrassed. Or worried that they were moving too fast? Or both?

As she grabbed her room key and headed for the door, Tony called her name.

She turned around and tilted her head.

"Stop worrying," he told her. "Last night…"

She stared at him.

"It's not like we…" he fumbled to find the right words. "It's no big deal."

Something flashed through Ziva's eyes, but it was gone before Tony could figure out what it was.

"Enjoy the sights, Tony." She smiled and left.

Tony exhaled. Hopefully she would feel better after her run. He couldn't help but smile as he closed his laptop and made his way to the shower. Things hadn't felt this good in a while. He had woken up with Ziva in his arms after a night on the town in Paris. Did it get much better than that?

His mind flashed back again to before they went to sleep. Ziva's lips against his ear, her breasts touching his chest…Well, it could have been a little better, he supposed. Yet, even without sex, Tony couldn't remember the last time he had such a fantastic night.

For Ziva, running was just as much a mental as it was a physical release for her. In the first three miles, she always focused intensely on turning off her thoughts, so the only thing left was her body moving. Her first three miles were about discipline. This was the time where she allowed herself to be single-minded; she thought of nothing but the pounding of her feet on the treadmill.

After three miles, she let her mind wander, unconsciously processing whatever thoughts would not fade away despite her physical exertion. That morning, Tony's voice kept echoing incessantly through her head.

It was not the fact that she awoke in his arms that bothered her. She had woken up with men before, although it was always after she had been physically intimate with them the night before. It bothered her that it had felt so good. It felt better than good. It felt better than she had ever imagined she could feel.

And that scared the hell out of her.

Her chest constricted when she remembered Tony telling her he wanted her. Telling her he would "mean it" if they…What did he mean "mean it?" His eyes had looked so earnest. There were always more words unsaid than said in the years they had known each other. She trusted him enough to believe in the things he could not say.

But then, this morning he had said it was "no big deal." He had made plans to go sightseeing without her. She wondered if their closeness at the Eiffel tower the night before had made him uncomfortable. Granted, it had made her uncomfortable, but in that impossible way where she had felt perfectly content too.

Ziva punched the buttons on the treadmill to increase her speed. Enough, she chided herself. Wondering about Tony's intentions, and realizing she cared what they were, made her feel weak, silly, vulnerable- Ziva stopped her thoughts there. No. She remembered what Gibbs had told her when they talked about how her father had treated her last summer. It is not a weakness to be vulnerable. It takes strength to feel that way instead of shutting down.

Ziva closed her eyes as she pushed the treadmill to go even faster. She did not feel like she was running away, like she had often felt in the past. Today, she felt like she was running towards something, even though she was unsure exactly what it was.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Starts at the end of Jet Lag and ends at the beginning of Masquerade. I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to update. I was stuck for quite a while. Thank you for reading!

All italicized text denotes direct quotations from the episodes.

* * *

"_Nora was right. I found my favorite picture, and it's the only one with someone in it."_

Ziva glanced up with interest. When he handed her the photograph, she eyed him with slight admonishment, but she couldn't suppress her sweet, indulgent smile and the humming sigh that followed.

"_Very French new wave, don't you think?"_

_ "Maybe. I think it would look better in black and white."_

Tony held up the photograph, considering it.

"I like it the way it is," he declared, sticking his nose up and returning to his desk.

Ziva focused her attention back on her computer, while Tony continued to look through his pictures. Periodically, he would reminisce loudly in a dreadful French accent. When he started talking about the food at Chez Rouge Lapérouse and the sights off the Eiffel Tower, Ziva noticed that several of their coworkers scattered across the bullpen were perking up with interest. When her attempts to distract and divert him from his ramblings did have any effect, she gave up and threw her stapler at him.

"It's mine now," Tony taunted, holding the stapler in one hand while rubbing his chest with the other. "You can't have it back."

"Is that so?" Ziva's voice dropped lower, her Israeli inflection becoming more pronounced the more threatening she got.

"It is," Tony shot back. "I am onto you, Agent David. You think you can intimidate me with projectile office supplies and an exotic accent? Well, you think wrong. Very wrong. So wrong, in fact, that-"

"That what, Dinozzo?" Gibbs asked, smacking him as he walked by.

"Thank you, boss!" Tony yelped. "But…what was that for?"

"You've been on-assignment without supervision for the last two days. I'm sure you did something to deserve it." Gibbs looked up at Tony. "What the hell are you doing?"

Tony paused, realizing he was simultaneously rubbing his head and his chest.

"Nothing," he replied quickly. "Ziva threw her stapler at me!"

"Try not to injure your senior field agent, Ziver."

Ziva pouted but perked up when Gibbs added, "At least not on NCIS time. I'd have to fill out forms."

Ziva grinned evilly at Tony who glared back and proceeded to toss some files onto her desk.

"Since you are feeling so feisty today," Tony grumbled. "Why don't you finish up these reports."

"They are not due until Friday," Ziva protested.

"Huh, well, due to extenuating circumstances…" Tony glowered at her. "Involving staplers…they are officially due in the morning."

Ziva flipped open one of the files and, with one final, piercing glance, began to work. Tony perched on the edge of her desk, superiorly looking over her shoulder. When Gibbs realized this, he sighed and made his way over to them. Tony jumped off Ziva's desk and retreated out of smacking distance. Gibbs grabbed half of Ziva's files and shoved them at him.

"And due to further extenuating circumstances," Gibbs growled. "Involving the two of you behaving like children…these are due before you leave tonight."

Tony and Ziva were two of the last people to leave the building that night when they finally finished their reports. Several security guards winced when the two passed them during their walk to the parking garage.

"If you hadn't goaded me with the reports-" Ziva was shouting.

"You have to learn that you can't just throw things at people when you're mad," Tony interrupted.

"Oh, and you abusing your authority to make people do your work is so much more mature," Ziva scoffed.

They continued to bicker even when they reached their destination, and Ziva was unlocking her car door.

"Where are you going?" Tony demanded.

"Home, of course," Ziva snapped. "Where else would I go?"

"You're going to just leave?"

"That is generally what people do at the end of their workday."

They stared at each other. What had started as their usual squabbling seemed to have turned into a genuine argument.

"You've been quieter since we got back," Tony said crossly. "What's bothering you?"

"Nothing is bothering me. Why do you always say something is bothering me when it is clear that something is bothering you?"

"_You_ are bothering me," Tony said through gritted teeth. "Other than that, I was having a stellar day til you threw the stapler at me."

"Can you just forget about the stupid stapler?"

"I have a mark in the middle of my chest, Ziva."

"Well, there did not seem to be any other way of shutting you up."

"And why did I need to shut up?"

"People were getting suspicious," she admitted in a huff.

Tony stopped, confused.

"What are you talking about?"

"Vance was listening to you from the stairway. Not to mention all the other agents who could not help but hear every word you said."

"So?"

"Tony, I would prefer that the other 50 people we work with in the bullpen do not speculate about our sex lives!"

Tony backed away from her slightly.

"Where did that come from?" he asked.

"People have been placing bets on us hooking up for years."

"So?"

"Rumors are already soaring about us being in Paris together."

"It's 'flying,'" he corrected. "And why? It was no big deal. Nothing happened."

Ziva's face fell as he repeated the words he had said that morning in their hotel room.

"They do not know that," she replied softly, staring intently at the car keys in her hand.

Tony was startled by her sudden change in demeanor. He tilted his head down to try to find her eyes, but she refused to look at him.

"I apologize, Tony," she said, opening her door. "You are right. It was no big deal. Nothing happened. I was reacting overly."

"Ziva, I-"

"See you tomorrow," she shut her door, turned on the engine and skidded away.

Tony felt like a complete ass. He'd been trying to calm her anxieties by saying it was no big deal, but he realized now that he must have made it sound like their night together…wasn't a big deal.

But it wasn't a big deal in the "disaster" way that their coworkers were likely to interpret it. Sharing a romantic evening and a bed did not mean he and Ziva couldn't work together anymore. It didn't mean they couldn't be friends in addition to whatever else happened. It didn't mean anything had to change.

Yet, Tony realized, things were changing. Instead of just wishing he could hold her close to him, he had. Instead of just wanting to kiss her neck, he actually did it. Even her temples, her cheeks, her forehead…

Not her mouth though. For some reason, kissing her lips seemed like going too far, changing too fast. Besides, they still had not talked about everything they needed to. Ziva had opened up a lot for her, and while he was sure there were things she still needed to say, it was more important that she felt comfortable saying them to him.

He sighed, wondering when _that_ would happen, as he drove out of the ramp.

On a whim, Tony drove by Ziva's apartment, but her lights were off. Initially, he wondered if she had stopped by her martial arts gym but, realizing it was 10PM, he figured she may have just gone straight to bed. Before he could stop himself, Tony was imagining her in just a tee-shirt with her dark hair spread over the pillows. If he knocked now, would she let him in? Or even better, would she let him crawl into bed with her?

Tony shook his head and shifted from park to drive. He knew Ziva. She needed time to decompress. It wasn't the first time he had upset her by saying something thoughtless. He did hope it would become a less frequent occurrence, though.

* * *

Ziva had gone to bed feeling hinky, but as she was getting ready the next morning after a good night's sleep and a great morning run, she felt things sliding back into perspective. Her quarrel with Tony was probably the result of jet lag, and the fact that they had been in each other's company almost every second for the last few days. Tali had always teased Ziva about her need for "alone time." It was true. Ziva never could spend more than a couple days with someone without having at least a few minutes by herself. Although it was different with Tali; Ziva had never minded sharing her alone time with her sister. She always seemed to know exactly what Ziva needed, be it quiet, laughter, or even tea.

That gave Ziva an idea. She finished getting ready quickly, grabbed her stuff, and scurried out the door. She wanted to make a pit stop on the way to work.

* * *

Tony was excessively proud of himself as he searched for his car keys that morning. He was leaving much earlier than he usually did, which meant he would actually be on time for work. McGee was certain to have a coronary.

Tony himself almost had a coronary when he opened his door and found Ziva in his hallway, bent over, picking something up off the floor.

"Ziva, what are you doing?" he asked.

"Oh mice. I was hoping to shock you!"

"I think you mean 'rats' and 'surprise,'" Tony corrected. "Although you on your hands and knees in my hallway at 7:30AM _is_ pretty shocking."

Ziva stood up, brushing herself off.

"I brought you breakfast," she said, offering him a cup. "I put a couple little packets of sugar in your coffee, but grabbed a few more in case it was a 4-teaspoon kind of morning."

She dropped a few rather dirty packets into his palm.

"They fell on the floor," she added.

"Wow. Thanks, Ziva…No one died, did they?"

"I wanted to make it up to you," she explained. "I was horribly snarky yesterday. You were insufferable too, but that is nothing new, and I should not have let it bother me so much."

"Is that supposed to be an apology?" Tony asked.

"No." She smiled. "But the coffee is. And I have food in the car. Ride with me?"

Despite his intense dislike of how many times he almost died every time he let her drive, he couldn't say no when she was being so sweet.

He did, however, screech out his indignation when he got into the car and saw what they were having for breakfast.

"Whole wheat, cardboard bagels and non-fat, watery cream cheese? Ziva, you lured me here under false pretenses!"

Ziva rolled her eyes as she reached for a small, white box in the backseat.

"I figured you would be this way," she said, thrusting the box at him.

He opened it to find half a dozen different kinds of donuts.

"Now that's more like it!" he exclaimed, digging in.

"Save some for the others, Tony," Ziva scolded but grinned when she saw the boyish delight in his eyes as he tried to select one.

When Ziva pulled into the parking garage, Tony raced out of the car to bring Abby and Ducky their donuts. Disappointed that he had not waited for her, Ziva carefully gathered her own things and arrived in the lab a few minutes after him.

"Ziva, Tony brought us donuts!" Abby squealed. "A surprise like this is just the greatest way to start the morning, isn't it?"

Ziva turned to glare at Tony.

"I guess I have never thought of it," she replied.

"Good thing Tony did!" Abby exclaimed, wrapping an arm around his waist while gobbling a chocolate donut with her free hand.

"Indeed." Ziva eyed him.

"Okay, gotta-go-Abby-or-we'll-be-late-Gibbs-could-be-waiting-for-us-upstairs-and-you-know-that'll-only-end-in-concussions," Tony blabbered, extricating himself from her grip.

When he and Ziva got on the elevator, he piped up, "I meant to tell her the donuts were from you, but then I realized you weren't behind me, and it might've sounded suspicious that I was handing out the donuts you brought to work before you even got to work."

"How would that sound suspicious? It was the truth."

"Lots of things that are true appear suspicious to other people. Especially the gossipy office gremlins around here."

"I still do not understand you." Ziva shook her head.

"Don't be too hard on yourself. The Dinozzo essence is far too complex for mere mortals to grasp."

"Right," Ziva scoffed. "Oh, I do have one question though."

"Shoot."

"How are you going to burn off all the calories that were in those three donuts you devoured in the car?"

"Easy as pie, my ninja." Tony laughed. "I signed up for tap dancing lessons yesterday!"

_"Tap dancing lessons?" _she echoed as they stepped out of the elevator._ "You can't be serious!"_


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Okay, 2 updates in 1 day (in 1 week!) is a record for me. I hope this chapter does not disappoint. I know where I want to go, but it's taking me forever to get there. I'm worried that the characters are getting OOC, so please let me know if you see that as an issue. Thank you all so much for reading, reviewing, favorite-ing, and alerting. It means the world to me!

* * *

She had startled him that morning by being in his hallway. She had shocked him by presenting him with food. However, it was when they were checking out a warehouse together and she brought up Saleem…that knocked the wind out of him.

He eyed her wearily from across the room, disbelief coursing through him. The fact that she was bringing up her time in Somalia, unprompted, was enough to render him speechless for a moment. He just slowly walked over to her as he listened to her voice constrict painfully. When she sensed his closeness, she seemed to snap herself back into the present.

"_You never talk about it_," he said quietly.

Her weak attempt at diversion made him hurt even more for her.

"_Come on, Ziva_." His eyes met hers and wouldn't let them go.

After a raw, scraping pause, she found her voice.

"_What Saleem did was bad enough. Becoming like him…would be worse."_

He did not stop her when she turned away from him. He did not redirect her from shoving her emotions back inside. He tried to follow her example and detach, because his arms were desperate to pull her close to him, to protect her even though he knew she didn't need it. It was moments like these where the memories of last summer rushed back, and he remembered how he had felt, overwhelmed by grief, helplessness, and rage.

At that moment in the warehouse, Tony wanted nothing more than to drive her to his apartment, lay her in his bed, take off all her clothes and just make sure that she really was here, and there were no pieces missing.

Instead, he followed her as they explored the warehouse, allowing himself to stop thinking about everything except the task at hand. It paid to be single-minded sometimes.

"So, thanks again for breakfast," Tony said as he tossed his backpack over one shoulder.

"It was no problem," Ziva replied, logging off her computer.

"What are you doing now?"

"Hmm. Probably just going home. I have lots to read."

"You know, Ziva, not everyone reads the entire history section of Barnes and Noble to prepare for their citizenship test."

"But it is all so interesting!"

"Come on. Take one night off."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Movie night?"

"Can I pick the movie?"

"Sure."

"Alright then. I have to run to my apartment and grab a few things. Meet you there in an hour?"

"I'll pick up some pizza and beer," Tony replied, nodding his approval. "What do you need from your apartment?"

"The movie we are watching."

"I might already have it," Tony pointed out.

"I doubt it." Ziva grinned as they walked to the elevator. "Louisa from the library recommended it to me. She got her BA in American History. She is the one who has been suggesting all these wonderful books for me to read."

"She sounds like a hoot," Tony commented.

"Hoot…like an owl?"

"No, like a-" Tony groaned. "Never mind. Just bring the movie over."

* * *

Louisa the librarian had loaned Ziva her own personal copy of "Iron Jawed Angels," a movie dramatizing how women in the United States got the right to vote. Tony didn't want to admit it, but it was actually quite good. It brought history to life, and the scene with Hilary Swank writhing around in the bathtub gave it credibility in Tony's eyes.

As the credits rolled, Ziva turned to Tony, her eyes a little glassy.

"I think it is all so fascinating," she said. "How your government functions. It is certainly not easy to change things, but it can be done."

"That's the theory, anyway," Tony quipped, gathering up their dishes and empty beer bottles to take into the kitchen.

When he returned to the living room a few minutes later, he caught Ziva in the middle of a yawn.

"A little sleepy there, ninja?"

"Mmm," she replied and scooted over on the couch, an invitation for him to join her again.

They discussed the movie for a while and then their day.

"Is there anything else you want to talk about? With Somalia, I mean?"

Ziva grew quiet, but Tony held his ground, staring intently at her until she answered him.

"No, I do not think I have anything more to say about it today." She paused, not making eye contact. "It is not an easy thing to talk about."

"I know," Tony replied. "Just…you know. We can talk about it some more. If you want to. Whenever."

"Thank you." Ziva looked up at him, and he felt himself melt a little when he saw her perfect, brown eyes.

She yawned again, and Tony laughed.

"Would you like to sleep here tonight?" he asked.

The question just kind of fell out his lips, without consulting with his brain. He hurried to add, "I just got this massage chair last week. I've been sleeping in it."

"Oh!" Ziva exclaimed in disapproval. "That sounds terrible for your back."

"No. It's good for it. Like hot chocolate. Want some hot chocolate?"

"No," Ziva replied stubbornly. "I think you should sleep in your bed…without any warm desserts."

Tony made a non-committal noise as he went to the kitchen. Ziva ventured towards his bedroom, which was surprisingly of acceptable cleanliness standards. He must have dashed home and done some ferocious cleaning in the hour before she arrived.

When Tony joined her a few minutes later, she had already taken off her work clothes and put on one of his XXL Ohio State shirts. He laughed when he saw that it almost touched her knees. Ziva glared at him playfully, as she pulled the covers back on the bed.

"You and I have been making a habit of this bed-sharing business, Agent David," Tony pointed out.

Ziva did not respond but reached out and stole the cup of hot chocolate from his hand. Taking a sip, she sighed her pleasure at the rich warmth.

"You could've just asked me to make one for you," Tony commented, as he began unbuttoning his shirt. "Then you wouldn't have to steal mine."

"We are sharing," she corrected, distracted by the way his hands were moving down his shirt.

"Oh, is that what this is?" Tony teased, though his voice did not sound as warm as he meant it to.

Her eyes seemed impossibly brown, peeking over the top of the mug. The quiet way she watched him made his blood flow faster. Tony wondered if he was supposed to continue undressing in front of her. Ziva did not move from her standing position next to the bed as he pulled off his shirt. Now wearing only a faded pair of jeans, Tony paused. The mood of their evening had shifted drastically in the last five minutes. What had started as friendly companionship and banter had turned into…potently electric silence.

Ziva chided herself, even as her heartbeat crept higher. Their situation was nothing new. She had seen Tony shirtless plenty of times. She had slept in this very bed with him just a few months ago. They had shared a bed again just a few days ago. It was not a big deal.

Yet, standing there, staring at him, she felt herself being to blush. The warmth started in her cheeks and spilled down her neck, arms, and her belly button. She could not tell if it felt good or not. When it hit the tops of her thighs, she felt the warmth turn into a heavy, pounding heat. She tried to draw in a deep breath but was only able to take a few shallow ones. Suddenly, she felt unsafe. She averted her eyes and sat on the edge of the bed.

Tony saw the change in her; the way she was withdrawing from him.

"You okay?" he asked, kneeling in front of her. He was careful not to touch her.

Ziva did not answer him. Tony did not leave her. After a few minutes, Ziva's breathing slowed. Tony rose and sat down next to her. He repeated his question.

"I am fine," she replied softly. "I felt odd for a moment, like I was not in this room anymore."

"Did I do something?" Tony asked. He would have given away his entire Robert Wagner movie collection to hide the vulnerability in his voice.

"No." She turned her face to his. "There are some things from…last summer that I am still working through. The therapist I have been seeing, Amy…she says it is normal."

"What else does she say? Should you…be here? Is this okay?"

"I think so. She says spending time with friends, being vulnerable with them, is one of the best things I can do to heal." After a long pause, she added, "I made a lot of progress after Thanksgiving."

Tony smiled, catching her allusion to their first sleepover.

"But this," Tony said gently. "This thing where you feel panicked with me. That has never happened before, has it? Is it too much?"

While Ziva tried to think of how to respond, Tony took her silence as an affirmative.

"Here." He stood up, ushering her to the head of the bed. "You lie down. I will be in my massage chair if you need anything."

Ziva opened her mouth to argue with him, but he cut her off.

"No. Sleep."

Tony grabbed some pajamas and went to the bathroom. When Ziva heard him come out, she slipped out of bed and quietly followed him to the living room.

"Sleep in your bed, Tony. That chair is not good for you."

"Actually, it is very good for me," Tony replied, flipping the footrest out as he adjusted the settings via a remote control. "It works out all my knots."

"It _gives_ you knots," she protested.

"Those who giveth can taketh away. Or something like that."

Seeing that Tony refused to be reasoned with, Ziva sighed, tugged her sleep shirt closer to her knees, and climbed into his lap.

"Are you serious?" Tony groaned.

"I am tired," she replied.

After a few moments, Tony huffed in resignation.

"Fine. Get up."

"Oh, but you're right! The massage chair is so comfortable."

"Up, ninja! Don't make me…"

Ziva narrowed her eyes at him.

"What, Tony? What could you possibly do to me that I cannot do to you?"

Ziva shrieked when Tony tickled her ribs. He let out a triumphant _ha!_ Granted, she had him in an asphyxiating head-lock within five seconds, but it was worth it.

When they had finally settled into bed, Tony lay on his back with Ziva's head tucked under his chin. Her hair smelled minty and sweet.

"You know this _is_ kind of strange, Zee."

"I know." She sighed. "Would it help if I said we do this in Israel all the time?"

"Have platonic sleepovers with coworkers?"

"Yes."

"Not really." Tony frowned, his arm tightening around her waist. "You're not serious, are you?"

Ziva rolled her eyes at him.

"Go to sleep."

"Yes, ma'am…Ouch!!"


End file.
